


What is not done for work?

by Ektal



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Friendship, Humor, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-07
Updated: 2018-10-07
Packaged: 2019-07-27 18:20:15
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,854
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16224695
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ektal/pseuds/Ektal
Summary: Lestrade is in trouble, his team has failed and Sherlock is at a loss. In his time of need, there is one man, but is he ready for the consequences?





	What is not done for work?

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to my beta thecrimsondagger for her great work and her infinite patience! ^^"

"For once even our infallible Sherlock will suffer the bitter taste of defeat. I'd laugh if I weren't so desperate." Lestrade said, bringing his hand to his forehead.

"If your team were not composed of only idiots, maybe you wouldn't need to rely on me so much." Answered the mixture of flesh and dressing gown curled up on the sofa.

"Don't mind him." John said nonchalantly from the kitchen "He's always like this when he can't get what he wants."

"Maybe you should stop indulging him. Our child has to grow up at some point." The Inspector commented, earning an irritated grunt from the shapeless mass and an amused grin from the doctor, who was just coming back into the living room with some tea.

"Sometimes it's funny. It's like having a cat: he takes my place on the sofa, I find hairs everywhere and now and then he grumbles."

"I don't lose so much hair." Sherlock said, slightly offended.

The Inspector grabbed the cup offered to him and drank a few sips, while the two men were engaged in one of their comical domestic skirmish.

"Guys, please, don't argue." Lestrade intervened then; he had no time to lose, especially not on their quarrelling.

"Sherlock, there's nothing else we can do?"

"If only I had in my hands the video of the surveillance cameras..."

"We tried to obtain it, but those bastards got the lawyers involved." Sherlock curled up even more, started to tremble like a spring ready to shoot; then, suddenly, he turned on too his other side, his eyes fixed on the Inspector.

"There is a person who could help us." Lestrade had already seen that disgusted expression on the private detective's face before.

"I'll phone him." He offered, knowing that Sherlock would have never reduced himself to do it. And if that phone call didn't seem such an unpleasant task to him, he tried not to think about it.

"Watch out: he's dangerous." Lestrade got the number from John – his roommate didn't want to fish out his phone from the pocket of his dressing gown.

Two rings were enough.

"Good morning, Inspector."

"Mycroft. I don't even want to imagine how you got my number."

"A simple bit of information to obtain. And useful, in case Sherlock gets into trouble. But enough talk. I suppose you've called me for a reason?" Lestrade made him a short, quick report on the situation. If Mycroft wanted to know more, he was perfectly able to find any other information.

"I understand. I'll send one of my assistants at 221 Baker Street to let my brother see the video. I know how difficult it is to make him move when he's in that kind of state." Mycroft's voice tone revealed all his resigned reproach.

"I owe you."

To those words, Sherlock shook his head, in the same way a parent does when he wants to point out to his son what a huge mistake he's just made.

"May I convert your gratitude into a favour, Inspector?"

In that moment Lestrade understood his error, but now he could not hold back.

"As long as it's nothing dangerous or ill-advised, like babysitting Sherlock or killing someone."

"For both tasks I've already found someone more suitable, don't worry. Furthermore I would never put you in the position to make illegal acts – and with this I'm referring to the first task."

Lestrade laughed.

Behind him Sherlock grunted and turned again on his other side, giving him his back; John chocked on his tea.

"What did you have in mind?"

"You have to meet a person. He's in trouble, but as much as I've tried to advise him, he didn't want to listen. I hoped you could talk to him and help him."

Lestrade was amazed at the strange request. Honestly, he himself didn't know what to expect, but that was certainly the last thing that could go on in his mind.

"You can find someone more suitable for sure."

"I can assure you, you'll do the trick."

"Listen, I don't-" He tried to answer back, but Mycroft didn't let him finish.

"I'm sorry, Inspector, but I have a lot of things to do. My assistant will deliver to you the video you asked for, together with the details of the meeting. Have a good day."

Lestrade had no time to say hello before the the phone call ended.

What is not done, he thought, for work?

 

"How the hell did you do it?" Asked Donovan in astonishment.

Lestrade had come back to the police station with an expression of great relief and satisfaction on his face, joined by the pride to be the only one who could incriminate the culprit.

"A favor by an acquaintance." He answered non-committal.

"Well, I'd hold this "acquaintance" very tight. And what is this?"

Donovan took in hand the slip of paper in which were written the time and place of the meeting.

"Are you free this evening?"

"What's going on in your head?" She asked suspiciously, not liking where this was going.

"I hoped you could help me." Donovan waited for him to explain himself better.

Lestrade leaned back, his head tilted backwards as if praying to the sky that his sergeant accepted his request.

"It's for the video. I have to do something in exchange."

"Nothing dangerous, I hope."

"I just have to lend a person an ear. You are much better than me in this type of thing. Would you take over me?" He nearly begged, desperate for escape.

"I promise you that the next time we go out, I'll offer you a couple of rounds."

Donovan shook her head.

"No way. You asked for it."

"I did it to solve the case!"

"Sure, that's why you're one of the best and we are very happy to have you. But that doesn't mean you can drop the hot potato in my hands." She admonished him good-naturedly.

"And I'm also worried about your diet. Enjoy a proper dinner for once!"

"Yes, mum."

"And wear the suit you usually wear when you meet with the press." She recommended, before leaving the office with a strange twinkle in her eyes.

That last comment alerted him. He had been so immersed in his work that he forgot to check on which restaurant he had to show up.

A quick look was enough.

Damn Mycroft.

 

While the waiter was conducting him to his table, he took a look around.

It promised to be a very different evening from the usual, but the warm atmosphere and at the first sight of delicious food nearly convinced him that, after all, it wasn't going to be so bad.

His optimism vanished when the waiter pointed him to his chair.

"What the hell are you doing here?"

"Good evening, Inspector." The man greeted him, with a small smile on his lips and something akin to concern in his eyes; but that immediately disappeared.

Lestrade glared at him – trying at the same time to ignore how much that light suit, certainly custom made, looked good on the man.

"Mycroft, this is not what we agreed on." He affirmed indignant.

"I said you had to meet a person, and here I am."

Lestrade didn't even try to reason with the eldest Holmes: he had no strength to begin an argument that, he knew even before starting, he would have surely lost.

"Tell me what you want and let's get this over with."

"Nothing more than what we agreed for. Sit down, please." Mycroft invited him, making a sign with his hand.

Lestrade surrendered. He could be stubborn and put his feet down as much as he wanted, but he knew when to give up. And Donovan was right: coffee, beer and takeaways were not the best for his health.

"If we really have to go on, please do me a favour and stop being so formal. It makes me feel old."

"You shouldn't worry so much about your age, Gregory. You wear your years very well." He complimented him.

Lestrade grabbed and opened his menu, trying, in vain, to hide his embarrassment. He could not understand what game Mycroft was playing. He wanted to embarrass him, that was sure, but the reason escaped him. He couldn't deny, though, that deep down he felt also a touch of pleasure.

"This type of conversation... I'm not used to it anymore. And it's not suitable for this evening."

"What type of conversation?"

Lestrade decided to take the bull by his horns. The sooner they finished to talk, the sooner they could order their meal.

"Suitable for a date, that's it. Now, can we talk about something else?"

"And what type of encounter would ours be?"

Mycroft continued, not giving up. He leaned his face on the palm of his hand and gazed at the Inspector.

Lestrade felt at the same time captivated and afraid.

"I'm the one who should ask you that question." Mycroft smiled.

"Why did you eliminate the possibility for this to be a date?" The voice was serious; those eyes were scanning him, as if intending to read and examining his every single move, every little change in the expression on his face.

"Because usually both sides know they are on a date, Mycroft."

"Interesting answer. You hold on a behavioural norm, the agreement between people, instead of simply stating that you're not interested in deepening our acquaintance in that direction."

Damn Mycroft. Damn his family. Damn every Holmes who lives, lived and will live.

And damn himself for letting himself be outwitted.

"Oh my God. You already knew." He said accusatorial. The fact that Mycroft had deduced his ever increasingly attraction towards him made him shiver.

"I suspected it." Said Mycroft, relaxing and taking the menu in his hands al last.

"And what do you intend to do now? Use this information to your advantage? What do you want to obtain?" He asked, hardly restraining his voice.

"Gregory."

It was the second time he heard his name come out of those lips and poor, stupid him, he could not understand how a single word could instantly soothe him.

"The only advantage I want to gain is to enjoy this evening in your company. And, if you want it, repeat the experience."

He could not see any hint of lie in those words; rather, in those light eyes, usually cold and expressionless, he could make out again that touch of worry that had peeped out at the beginning of the evening.

"On the phone you said that that person was in trouble and needed help."

Mycroft let transpire a bitter smile.

"Caring is not an advantage."

He immediately understood. The problem, the difficulty, the apprehension, the uncertainty, the danger, the fear...

But something else could be there, too. And Lestrade was willing to make him realize it.

"Maybe it's time for it to become one."

 

_~Lestrade is not answering his phone. I therefore deduce that you succeeded in you plan. I did what I had to, now I expect that you keep your part of the agreement. – SH~_

_~John sends his congratulations. – SH~_


End file.
